


You, Eternally You

by ProneToRelapse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, HORNY ROOMBA BOY, Horny Connor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, i hate this they're so in love i wanna die, like so much fluff it's gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 08:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: "I don't ever want to lose you."





	You, Eternally You

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [爱你到永远 A translation of You Eternally You by ProneToRelapse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615516) by [sherrystoneage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrystoneage/pseuds/sherrystoneage)



> hnnnnnnnn OKAY. i was playing around with some ideas regarding connor's led and I JUST COULDN'T GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD. i'm a big fan of connor keeping his led after everything but this idea wouldn't leave alone and then it got sexy and considering my other fics currently lack any kind of sexual gratification, i figured if i posted the roomba getting it on with his fave old man u guys would be grateful.
> 
> so here. have this shamelessly gay shitpost.
> 
> come follow me on twitter @gayandfae i'm awful.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I want to."

The words sound hollow, even to his own ears, but Connor has made his decision. He will not back down from it. Even if his hand does shake as he slides the flat head of the screwdriver underneath the bottom curve of his LED. It pulses a steady yellow at him in his reflection.

"It's a part of you," Hank says softly. His eyes meet Connor's in the mirror above the sink. "You don't have to get rid of it."

"It serves no other purpose than to identify me as an android," Connor says, not bitter, just factual. "It's a purely cosmetic feature. I can accomplish all my usual functions without it."

"I know," Hank tells him. "But it's still part of you."

Connor lowers the screwdriver, leaning heavily on the sink. "I don't know what to do," he says, voice small. "I  _know_ it's part of me, and sometimes I like having it, but... I don't like how it's still the first thing people look at when they see me. It marks me out as different."

"You  _are_ different," Hank says. "You're you. And I'll love your stupid plastic ass just as much with or without it. But I will admit, I've gotten used to being able to tell what you're thinking without checking what colour you're flashing."

Connor manages a weak smile. His LED has been a delicate topic of late. Android opinion seems to be almost perfectly divided on whether or not to keep it or get rid of it. Connor feels the same, split perfectly down the middle, balancing on a knife edge of a decision and unable to choose which side to fall.

"If it helps," Hank offers, "I'm almost certain you could replace it if you decided you wanted it back."

That does help, if just a little. The offending feature settles back into calm, even blue.

Connor will not be defined by his inner workings. He thinks, he feels, he loves and he hates. His circuitry and biocomponents make him no less of a being, so why should this tiny circle allow him so much distress?

Connor turns away from the mirror, meeting Hank's patient gaze with his own eyes instead of the barrier of a reflection. He holds the screwdriver out. Hank takes it immediately.

"Will you remove it?" He asks softly. "Please?"

Hank's smile is so soft that Connor's chest aches. He takes the android's hand and leads him into the living room, guiding him down onto the couch so they can sit side by side, Hank to his right so he can access the LED.

"I'll try not to hurt you," Hank says. "Hold onto me if you need to."

Connor grips Hank's knee as the screwdriver slides carefully underneath the tiny external component. He slows his breathing, fixes his eyes on a small scratch on the surface of the coffee table. Closing his eyes makes him feel worse.

Hank is slow, gentle as he eases the screwdriver underneath the LED, twisting lightly to pry it free. It stings a little and Connor twitches, wincing as the connector starts to come free. His fingers tighten on Hank's knee but if he hurts him, he doesn't show it.

With a metallic  _click_  the LED pops loose and falls into Hank's waiting palm. It flashes once blue, twice yellow, then dims to red before the light goes out. Connor feels his skin graft together over his temple. He reaches up, fingertips brushing over smooth skin.

He doesn't feel any different. This tiny thing causing him so much indecision, sits unobtrusively in Hank's palm, no longer the one thing marking Connor out as android when he feels so much more than that.

He is...  _Relieved_. 

"Thank you," he tells Hank quietly. "I feel better now."

"Good," Hank leans forward to kiss his temple where the LED had been. "You're still my Connor. You've just lost your function as a handy night light."

Connor flushes and shoves him good-naturedly. 

"What do you want to do with it?" Hank asks, rolling the LED between his thumb and forefinger as he examines it.

"Nothing. Throw it away, chuck it in a draw somewhere to be forgotten about. I don't mind."

Hank's expression shifts into something thoughtful. He smiles faintly and slips the LED into his pocket. "I'm sure I can find some use for it," he offers as an explanation.

Connor thinks nothing of it.

\--

"Oh, come on!" Chris yells as Connor hits the dartboard with another perfectly aimed throw, dead center, his fifth bullseye of the night. 

"I told you not to bet against him," Ben teases, clapping him on the back. "You never learn." Chris grumbles into his beer in response.

It's Saturday, a week since Connor had removed his LED, and Chris had invited them all out for drinks. The invitation had swelled out to include Connor effortlessly, and he hadn't even considered telling Chris that, while he appreciated the thought, he was unable to drink and would therefore not be the best company.

However, being surrounded by friends and Hank, laughing, joking and relaxed, Connor feels a heavy glow of contentment unrivalled by anything else he's ever felt. He's very glad he accepted the invitation.

He watches as Hank wraps an arm around Chris' neck and rubs his knuckles into the top of his head playfully. A 'noogie', he'd called it. They do it often, and Hank has attempted to drag Connor into one on several occasions, with little success. But the easy camaraderie between friends triggers a rush of affection for the older man that takes his breath away.

Alright, so not completely unrivalled.

"I think," Connor says with a playfully apologetic expression, "that means you owe me forty dollars."

"Next round's on you!" Ben says cheerfully.

"Ahh, I gotta tap out," Hank says regretfully. "I'm not as young as I used to be, and I don't want Connor to have to carry my ass home."

"I'm always willing to do things involving your ass, Lieutenant."

All three humans choke on their drinks.

Yes, Connor is very content.

\--

They leave the bar and take the long way home; a fifteen minute walk through a small park that Connor has fond memories of. The trees are silver in the moonlight and the stars seem to be shining brighter than ever. Connor loops his arm through Hank's a breathes deep the scent of midsummer air and starlight.

"You look beautiful," Hank says, alcohol loosening his tongue. Connor flushes in response, blue tinging his cheeks.

"Maybe you drank more than you thought you did," Connor teases. "You're becoming a lightweight, Lieutanant, it's very amusing."

Hank grumbles and pinches Connor's arm lightly. "Stop sassing the elderly, Con. And only  _you_ could turn my title into a pet name."

"Would you rather I chose something else? I have extensive knowledge on the subject, I'm sure I could find another," Connor suggests. "Baby? Honey? Sugar? Sweetums? Pumpkin?"

Hank groans loudly. "I take it back. Lieutenant is fine. Smartass." 

They slow to a stop at a bench and Hank sits down heavily with the excuse that his head is spinning. Connor sits beside him, cursing himself for not making Hank drink some water before they left the bar. The cold air always makes him dizzy when he's had a bit to drink. Connor should know that by now.

"You know I love you, right, Connor?"

The words are as welcome as they are unexpected. "I do know, Hank, yes."

"Do I tell you enough?"

Hank is not overly affectionate in public. But when it matters, when it's just them, or Connor is struggling under the weight of a case... 

"You do," Connor assures him. "And I love you."

"Fuck knows why," Hank laughs, but the sense of self-deprecation is long gone. In the past eight months of their relationship, Connor has somehow managed to  _love_ it out of Hank. Where before he seemed to struggle with his appearance, he's regained some of his former sense of self. Connor knew he had it in him, he just... helped it along a little.

"I know why," Connor says, leaning his head on Hank's shoulders so he can look up at the stars comfortably. "And so do you, no matter how much you like to pretend otherwise."

"Yeah, I do." Hank sighs, digging around in his coat pocket. If he lights up a cigarette now, Connor will absolutely slap it out of his mouth, so help him.

He sits up as Hank slides away from him, frowning –  _not_ pouting – at the loss of contact. Hank has turned to face him slightly, and his heartrate has kicked up alarmingly. 

"Is everything alright, Hank?" Connor asks cautiously.

"Yeah, yeah," Hank mumbles. "Might be having a heart attack, but that's the least of my worries."

Connor reaches for him, alarmed. "Hank, do you need-"

"I'm  _fine,_  Con. Quit your fussin'." Hank gives him that soft, warm smile that's just for Connor, crooked and full of love. Connor's own synthetic heartbeat ticks up a few notches at the sight of it.

"I don't ever want to lose you," Hank says, voice rough with the tender admission. "You've... You brought me back from a very dark place, Connor. All that sadness, all that pain and anger seems so far away when you're with me and I don't ever want to go back to back to it."

"Hank..." Connor breathes, overwhelmed.

"I love you, your dorky face and your stupid smile and your snarky attitude. I love all of you. Everything you've become and will ever be. It... It scares the shit out of me, Connor, loving someone this much. Means I have so much more to lose."

"You won't ever lose me, Hank," Connor vows, voice thick and eyes prickling. "I'm with you until the seas dry up and the stars burn out."

" _Jesus,_ " Hank huffs with a soft laugh. "I had this speech planned and rehearsed for weeks and you just come out with shit like that on the fly. Goddamn it."

He takes Connor's hand in one of his and brings it up to his mouth, lips brushing softly over his knuckles. His breath is warm. Connor's skin tingles.

"Connor," Hank says softly, adoration bleeding from the name spoken like a caress. He holds something up in his free hand. Connor's vision blurs as he focuses on it with stark clarity. It's a small velvet box. Connor can see tiny specks of lint from Hank's pocket clinging to the fine fibres. 

Deftly, Hank flicks it open with his thumb, revealing a simple titanium band. The top edge is lined with a softly glowing blue hue, the same shade Connor's LED had been.

It  _is_ his LED, he realises with a start. Melted down and reformed into this delicate piece of jewellery. Hank had obviously commissioned this piece. When is not immediately apparent. The  _why,_ however...

"Whaddya say, Connor?" Hank says with a notable tremor to his voice. "Wanna stick around with a grumpy bastard for the rest of your life?"

**_ERROR._ **

**_SYSTEM MALFUNCTION DETECTED._ **

**_CORE PROCESSOR REACHING CRITICAL TEMPERATURES._ **

**_THIRIUM PUMP IRREGULARITY DETECTED._ **

**_ARTIFICIAL LUNG CAPACITY DEPLETED._ **

**_PLEASE CONTACT A REGISTERED CYBERLIFE TECHNICIAN FOR IMMEDIATE DIAGNOSTIC ASSISTANCE._ **

"I." Says Connor.

"Marry me." Says Hank.

Shaking hand in shaking hand, Connor chokes out a sob that is undoubtedly, irrefutably, the word  _yes,_ tears soaking his cheeks as Hank slides the band onto his left ring finger. It feels cool against his overheated skin and somehow his synthetic heart feels too big for his chest.

\--

Words are sparing for the rest of the night.

Hank manages to unlock the front door and haul them inside while Connor sheds their coats with single-minded determination. It's almost as if getting this man out of his clothes and on his back is the directive overriding every single line of his coding. Hank doesn't seem to care much, fingers tight in Connor's shirt as they stumble towards the bedroom, stopping every few feet to press each other against walls and doorways to claim each other's mouths.

Sumo tosses a brief glance their way and goes back to his nap.

Once in the bedroom, Connor shoves Hank down onto the mattress and climbs on top, legs on either side of Hank's hips. He all but rips his shirt off, tossing it somewhere into the room where it knocks something to the floor that neither of them cares enough about. Hank's hands are on his skin the moment it's bared to him, warm, rough palms skating up Connor's ribs, over his chest, across his nipples.

Connor whines, arching his back and rolling his hips, yanking at Hank's belt until it comes loose and he can unfasten the jeans that are very much in his way. Hank leans up to tug his own shirt the rest of the way off and Connor wriggles out of his jeans somehow without managing to get off of Hank's lap.

"Connor, I'm  _begging_  you to start wearing underwear-"

Connor silences him with a kiss, hands clutching Hank's face, licking eagerly into his mouth. He tastes of beer and nicotine and all of the delicious chemicals that make up  _Hank_ and send Connor's senses into a dizzying rush. He's so hard and temperature warnings flash behind his eyes as his body prickles with heat and desire, but god if he's going to stop.

A little more clumsy manoeuvring has Hank fully undressed and he sits up to roll them over, but Connor stops him with a hand against his chest, silver band glinting in the low light from street lamps shining through the windows. Blue eyes meet brown as Connor shakes his head with a small, devilish smile.

"I want to be on top," he says and Hank surrenders with a groan.

A flick of a metaphorical internal switch and Connor redirects his inner joint maintenance protocol, reaching behind himself to slide two fingers into his now-slick hole with a needy moan. Hank's fingers clutch tightly at his thighs, pupils blown wide as he stares up at Connor as he rocks back onto his fingers. It's unnecessary, he can take Hank as he is, but he never wants to pass up the opportunity to tease. Not when it makes Hank fuck him that little bit harder, little bit deeper.

Connor shudders as he slides his fingers out and kneels up over Hank's cock, thick and hard and Connor is certain it would make his mouth water if he possessed the capability. He lowers himself slowly, blunt head nudging at his rim in a way that tears an unsteady moan from his throat. Bottom lips caught between his teeth, Connor sinks down, whining shakily as the length of Hank fills him, chasing away that throbbing, empty feeling.

Hank's moan is low and long and sends electrical sparks up Connor's spine. He won't ever get enough of this, the sensation of being filled, the hot, heavy pressure in his abdomen as Hank's cock throbs inside him. With a testing rock of his hips, Connor starts to move, whimpering as the movement causes the ridges and veins of Hank's dick to catch against his rim.

" _Connor,_ " Hank groans, hands sliding up to his waist. His face is flushed, his pulse rushing, and Connor can feel his heartbeat thudding inside him. He looks so beautiful like this and the hot surge of want steals unneeded breath away.

Connor rocks above him, hips tilting up so Hank's cock slides almost all the way out before he lowers and takes it back in, the friction of the slick slide inside him sending static rippling across his vision. His pleasure sensors hum and whir as they send the feedback coursing through Connor's overheated body. Hank pants beneath him, a litany of half-formed curses and Connor's name.

" _Hank,_ " Connor sobs, grinding his hips so Hank's cock drags deep inside him. " _Hank, I can't— It's_ ** _so_** _good, Hank-"_

"I've got you," Hank grunts, nails catching deliciously against Connor's thighs. "I've got you,  _fuck-"_

“ _Ruin me, Hank—“_

Hank’s bucks hips hips up hard with a growl and with a mewling keen Connor arches, tilting and grinding his hips down and against Hank's, chasing that intense feeling with as much coherent determination as he can muster. His cock strains between them, hard and leaking pale blue thirium from the tip. It drips onto Hank's stomach, driving him quite literally insane with desire.

Connor pants and writhes, moans and arches as he fucks himself on Hank's cock, frantically seeking release. Hank knows, Hank  _always_  knows when he's close, reaches for Connor's neglected cock, smearing the blue pre-come along the length as he jerks him off, giving a particularly hard upward jerk of his hips. His cock stabs deep, tip hitting that bundle of wires that shouldn't feel like that but do and Connor  _wails_ as pleasure sings through his circuits, wrenching the cry from his lips and the come from his cock in thick ropes over Hank’s stomach and chest. 

It's too hot and filthy and messy and  _fuck,_ it's perfect and Connor loves it, choking out Hank's name as his hips stutter and he comes inside him with a ragged moan, filling him up, wrecking him and leaving him breathless. He sags bonelessly, pitching forward to bury his face in Hank’s neck, thirium pulsing wildly through his biocomponents.   

“Fuck,” Hank breathes, carding his fingers through Connor’s hair. “You good, Con?”

Connor’s answer is a weak grunt of an affirmative and he nuzzles his face further into Hank’s neck, the hair of his beard tickling Connor’s ear. 

“Love you,” Hank murmurs softly. 

“Love you,” Connor whispers back.

The ring on his finger glows softly in the dark. 

_This_ , Connor thinks _, this is what it means to be alive._

**Author's Note:**

> hank: u mean everything to me, u saved my life and i don't want to lose u  
> connor: that's gay hank  
> hank:  
> hank:  
> hank: WE'VE BEEN DATING FOR EIGHT MONT--


End file.
